The missing villagers weren’t dead. They were dancing.
In a moonlit clearing, sixteen souls moved in slow circles around a pale figure draped in roots and starlight. The party raised their weapons — then heard the laughter. Not screaming. Laughter.
The figure turned. It was no monster. It was the old hermit they’d been told had caused the disappearances. “I brought them here to hide,” he whispered, his eyes hollow as bark. “Something hunts this valley. Something that wears the faces of people you trust.”
One by one, the party looked at each other.
💬 Who among them had changed since entering the forest? Drop your theory below! 👇